


The Elf Who Lived

by Scarletembers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Bottom Harry, Elf Harry, Elf Harry Potter, Elf Sex, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Eventual Smut, F/M, Flogging, House-Elf Abuse (Harry Potter), Humiliation, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Master & Servant, Master/Slave, Multi, Objectification, Painplay, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Sadism, Sex Toys, Sexual Slavery, Shameless Smut, Slave Harry, Smut, Sub Harry, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25523167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarletembers/pseuds/Scarletembers
Summary: 11-year old Harry's life turns upside down as he receives a letter from Hogwarts inviting him to work as a house-elf in the castle. He learns unnerving facts about his dead mother's secret kinks and about his real parentage. As he starts his life as a house-elf in Hogwarts, he is faced by sexual predators from all ends.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore & Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Original House-Elf Character(s), Harry Potter/Other(s), House-Elves (Harry Potter)/Other(s), House-Elves/House-Elves (Harry Potter), James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Lily Evans Potter/Other(s)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 273





	1. The Letter from Hogwarts

Harry was an ordinary boy. He was almost eleven and he lived in the cupboard under the stairs of number four, Privet Drive. He spent most of his time doing household chores for his Aunt Petunia or by being a punch ball for Dudley. He had been looking forward to September—he could then finally go off to the Secondary School and be away from Dudley for the first time in his life. But then, Harry got a letter which was to change his life forever.

The letter addressed to Harry had come by mail one early morning in July. Uncle Vernon had grabbed it from his hand before Harry could open the round seal bearing a coat of arms: a large letter “H” surrounded by a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake. Vernon tore it open and as he read it, his whole comportment shaking in anger. By the end of the letter, he was gaping like an idiot. “P-P-Petunia,” he gasped, handing the letter over to his wife, stuttering “Wh—What is this? Wh—what on earth is an _e-elf_?” Petunia straightened the yellow parchment and started reading with fear written clearly across her face. The contents of the letter were written in a neat, long-cursive green ink:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You are to initiate your services as a house elf in the School by the beginning of the new term. A house elf from Hogwarts will assist you in your journey here by no later than 31 st July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster_

Petunia collapsed onto the sofa after she passed the letter on to Harry absent-mindedly. A broad grin formed on her face, much to the horror of Uncle Vernon. “Wh—what?” he roared, “What does it mean? What the heck are you smiling for?”

“Lily…she used to talk a lot about _house elves_ back then, when she went… _there_. I never understood much of the rubbish she said. But I remember her saying that they are like _servants_ for… _their kind_ ,” Petunia said suppressing a chuckle. She had a half-crazed look in her eyes as she continued, “They want to take him as their servant! He can go for all I care…maybe they will pay us more money than the useless boy is worth. A little more for Dudley’s college fund wouldn’t hurt…”

Harry had no idea what they were talking about or what the letter meant, for that matter. This must be another one of Dudley’s pranks. Or they all must have written this letter themselves to humiliate him; no one had ever written to him before, they knew he would get excited…Harry ran to his room, confused, his eyes filling with tears.

Harry was scrubbing the kitchen slab after supper, on the day of his eleventh birthday. The Dursleys had already gone to sleep; Uncle Vernon was snoring loudly upstairs as Wanda apparated into the kitchen with a pop. Harry gawked at the creature standing before him with big pointy ears and bulging, large, round eyes. Her eyes were startlingly pink and Harry could see the outline of her well-formed perky breasts, which were covered under a dirty table cloth which she had wrapped around her bosom. The rag ended a few inches past her groins and her bow-shaped legs were exposed. Her nipples hardened and jutted out under his glance before Harry recovered himself and asked open-mouthed, “What—what…who—what are _you_?”

“Harry Potter,” the house elf squeaked, “Me is Wanda, a house elf from Hogwarts. So long has Wanda wanted to meet Harry… Wanda has heard a lot about you. Master Dumbledore asked Wanda to bring Harry Potter to his office…Oh, and before Wanda forget, Happy Birthday Harry!”

Harry gaped at her, wondering how she even knew, it was the first time anyone ever wished him on his birthday. “Err…thanks,” Harry managed to reply.

“Wanda hope you got the letter from the headmaster, Harry?”

“Letter? Oh…yes, but who is this headmaster? What do you want from me?” Harry asked totally clueless.

“Master Dumbledore will explain all that to Harry Potter,” Wanda continued in a hurry as she took hold of his arm, “We need to go now. Master is waiting for Harry in his office”. Before Harry could respond, she disapparated with him from his aunt's kitchen. His head spun around and in the flick of a second, he was in the Headmaster’s office.

The old man with the half-moon spectacles and a large over-flowing white beard welcomed Harry to his office with a kind smile. He dismissed Wanda and conjured a chair on the opposite side of the large wooden table from where he sat and motioned Harry to sit across from him. For the next half-an-hour, the man spoke to Harry, with a bit of condescension in his voice which Harry could not discern, about the wizarding world, Hogwarts, his parents, about Voldemort, and about how the Dark Lord lost his powers the day he attacked Harry, to the moment the headmaster had to leave him to his aunt’s care. Harry didn’t believe a word of what he heard during the first half of Dumbledore’s monologue, but then Harry realized that he had always known that there was something special about him—there were instances when he would intensely think about being in a place, and then he would somehow get teleported there. One time, he had even gotten himself apparated onto a rooftop, and he had to jump down and break his legs as no one else helped him get down. He had stopped thinking about being in places after that. Nevertheless, Harry believed this old man, his voice was so soothing, and no one had ever spoken to him, in his entire life, this kindly and politely.

“If…,” Harry found his tongue as Dumbledore stopped, “if my parents studied…m-magic here, will I also be learning—”

“No, you won’t be learning magic, Harry,” Dumbledore cut him off plainly, “You are not a wizard.”

“But you said wizards’ children study here,” Harry was slightly impatient now; it didn’t make sense as to why he was brought here.

“Your mom was a witch, but I’m sorry to inform you, Harry, James Potter is not your biological father,” he licked his lips before he continued, “I’m not sure if your muggle education covered anything about how people conceive children, have they?” Dumbledore was looking at him questioningly and suddenly Harry remembered what Dudley had told him when he was cleaning his room and came across a pile of porn stash under the big boy’s bed. Dudley had even offered to make him pregnant, if only he took his pants off; but Harry had managed to evade his clutches on such occasions when Dudley had that weird look on his face.

Dumbledore was pretty much aroused at the way Harry was looking down, embarrassed, as he continued, “I gather you have an inkling about the matter, Harry. As I was saying, your mother didn’t conceive you with her husband. You are not a wizard because one of your parents is a house elf”. Dumbledore was looking down at him in an expression of intense pity.

Harry gawped. He closed his mouth, opened them again, and after a few minutes, finally asked, “An elf! You mean like Wanda?” Wanda had really nice breasts, Harry thought, but she was still short for a grown woman and weirdly ugly, with her bat-like ears and abnormally large round eyes. “Why would my mother even want to have…a child with an elf?” Harry asked, with a frown, before Dumbledore could respond.

The headmaster laughed, and watched Harry as he formed his response. “What can I say, your mother had strange tastes, Harry. She liked to... lay with house elves; even when she was a student here, I used to receive a lot of complaints from the house elves who did the cleaning in the Gryffindor dormitory at night. Of course, they could not refuse when a student asked something of them and I didn’t meddle—why should I stop a young girl like her from having her fun!” Dumbledore laid back on his chair with satisfaction, his loins growing stiff at the horrified pout forming on the boy’s face. “She must have continued her weird desires even after she left Hogwarts. My hunch is that she didn’t expect to get pregnant by a house elf. She probably thought you were James’ child until you were born, and she saw you,” Dumbledore explained calmly, fixing his eyes on the little boy before him, who was now sweating profusely, and looked as if he would faint any second. Harry had remembered what his aunt said, about house elves being servants; he didn’t want to be a servant, he wanted to go to school.

“But,” Harry started on his seat with a ray of hope, “I don’t look like Wanda. I look like a—normal boy. I’m a bit short, but I’m sure I will be tall when I grow up.”

Dumbledore smiled mockingly, which the boy mistook again for a kind smile, as he slowly took out his wand and waved it at Harry’s face muttering a spell, “Revelio”. The headmaster also waved his wand to procure a mirror and handed it over to Harry, with a smug expression on his face.

Harry’s jaw fell in utter disbelief as he looked at his reflection in the mirror—his ears were now big and pointy like Wanda’s, and his already wide eyes were now abnormally wide, his green eyeballs as large as tennis balls.

“You are a half-elf Harry. We had to use a spell to transfigure your elfish features to more human-like ones to trick the muggle eyes, when we left you at Dursleys. Any family from the wizarding community would have been glad to adopt the child who defeated the Dark Lord. But I couldn’t send you to any of them because of your elf-blood, they would have easily realized it,” Dumbledore paused, to give Harry a dramatically piteous look before he continued, “We couldn’t take the risk, then, you see, the whole of the wizarding community had to place their hope in the fact that Voldemort was gone. They wouldn’t have believed it if I told them the Dark Lord was defeated by a half-elf child. Harry, you need to understand that a witch or wizard having a child by a house elf is condemned upon. Such off-springs are not accepted by the wizarding community and the Ministry will only list them only as house elves, even if one of the parents is of the magic blood.”

Harry’s eyes were now brimming over with tears, and his lips quivered with hurt. When Dumbledore had started telling him about his parents and how he made an evil wizard go away, his heart was fluttering like a bird with joy. Now, it lay dead and he could feel the whole weight weighing him down.

“Please, sir, you—you have misunderstood. You see, I have been told that I look like my father,” he pleaded; he remembered his aunt telling him that he had the same ‘stinky ragged look’ his father had. Dumbledore was thoroughly enjoying himself watching the boy’s eager face rise up in the expectation of this last resort of hope.

“Your mother was a very clever witch, Harry. Actually, one of the very best Hogwarts had ever seen,” Dumbledore said with a note of appreciation in his voice, “she fed you the Polyjuice potion, with maybe a hair of your father’s to make you look like him. This potion totally transforms adults to the person they want to impersonate, but Harry, elves are immune to it. And since, you were a half-elf-half-witch, you didn’t totally turn into him, but you retained some of his essential features except for your eyes. Also, probably because of the tender age you consumed it in, it has permanently affected your features.”

Harry was speechless. He wasn't following everything the headmaster was saying and he had no idea what to say or what was to happen to him.

“Umm…sir? Will Wanda kindly drop me back at my aunt’s place soon? I’m glad to have met you, sir, but you see, I am to go to Stonewall High for my education…” 

What an innocent child, Dumbledore thought, his pants straining against the boner under his desk. “No, Harry,” Dumbledore said, almost with a sweet smile, “You are not a muggle. You don’t have to go to a muggle school. You are a famous figure in the wizarding world. The house elves will treat you with respect, in fact, everyone here will be glad to meet you. You _belong_ here, Harry”. Dumbledore gazed at him almost lovingly from under his half-moon spectacles, and flashed him the kindest smile he had ever received in his life.

Harry knew at that moment that he wouldn’t insist on going back to the Dursleys. They never cared about him. Maybe, it won’t be bad, after all. Wanda seemed nice, this man before him had treated him with kindness. Maybe, he did belong here in the wizarding world, even if he could only be a servant in it. Deep down he had always known he never fitted in with his aunt’s family.

The headmaster could easily read Harry's thoughts from the expressions that flittered over his childish face. _The boy looks deliciously and extremely_ _servile_ , Dumbledore thought, as he gorged on the sight before him, Harry was clinging on to his every word. There ware still many things he needed to tell him, but Dumbledore decided that should wait, the poor child needed time to process all that he had heard today.

“It’s getting late, Harry," Dumbledore said rising up from his chair, "We will talk more tomorrow. I'm sure it's way past your normal bedtime. Wanda will show you to your—where you will sleep,” Dumbledore flashed a reassuring smile as he walked over to Harry and placed a friendly hand on his shoulder and summoned Wanda.

As Wanda apparated holding Harry’s hand, Dumbledore sighed in frustration, and laid back on his antique rocking chair. He had not been turned on like this for months. He had no idea the Harry had grown up to look this pretty—he had all the beauty of a young boy combined with the elfish petite-ness. And his large wide elfish green eyes—Dumbledore fumbled with his pants as he slid his hand inside. He had always craved for young boys, but he realized he had never craved for anyone like this before. Harry had looked heavenly when he had revealed the boy’s true appearance. He stroked his member, thinking about the little boy’s expressions, the way he pouted, the way he looked at him with respect and servitude, the boy is just perfectly made. Dumbledore considered summoning Wanda to suck him off, his large old member hadn’t throbbed like this in a long time. Wanda did already have a thing for Harry, Dumbledore thought, he had seen how hard her nipples were straining against her almost transparent rag.

“Wanda,” he called out in the dark, after stroking his organ unsuccessfully for a few minutes. She appeared with a pop, and her expression changed to that of apprehension, as she noticed that the headmaster’s hand was down inside his pants. She stood trembling, as she realized why the headmaster had called her now.

“Don’t look so disheartened, you whore!” Dumbledore smirked, “I saw how excited you were around the boy. Don’t tell me you have spoiled your loin-cloth, I won’t bother providing with you a new one. Maybe you would like to walk around naked in the kitchen, won’t you?”

"No Master…please… Master, Wanda would never… Wanda was only excited to see Harry Potter, Harry defeated Dark Lord! All the house-elves are excited to see Harry when Wanda took Harry to kitchen,” Wanda was cowering, as she talked, falling onto her knees before the old wizard.

“I bet they are. But you are excited in a _different_ way, aren't you, Wanda? Come now, slut, show me what is under your old tablecloth and I’ll show you what is under mine,” Dumbledore chortled. It had been a while since he had used her, and he was disappointed to note that the fucking elf wasn't too excited about it. 

Wanda knew it would only throw the old man into a horrible rage if she refused, and she complied by pulling down the dirty rag down to her waist. Dumbledore grabbed her towards him, clasping her breasts eagerly, in his hands. Her well-formed, round perky boobs hurt under the old man’s hands, his crooked fingers were twisting her protruding nipples, twisting them so hard that she started to sob silently.

“Are you taking the potion I gave you, Wanda? Maybe you should double to dose. I will have more to squeeze under my arms, then,” Dumbledore said. He had been giving Wanda a _Breasts Engorgement Magic Potion_ which kept them so full and firm. She didn’t relish having to take the dose daily—usually female elves had misshaped and saggy breasts, that too only when they got older; she was even too young to have developed them at all. All the other house elves hated her for walking around with those perfect boobs she didn’t ask for, with the semi-transparent table-cloth the old perverted man had given her.

“Please Master, Wanda hasn’t shown Harry where he sleep yet,” she implored, as he forced her head down to his cock, she was hoping desperately that the old wizard would let her go.

“Fucking whore, you bore me to death,” Dumbledore spat, “Go away!”

Wanda started crying loudly now. “Wanda not want to disappoint her Master. Wanda is sorry, Sir,” she wailed as he hit her head against Dumbledore’s table. Drops of blood started oozing out of her forehead. Dumbledore didn’t ask her to stop as he touched himself to the thought of Harry’s childish face and his slender, soft limbs. He would have Harry, soon, he thought, instead of this filth, and he wasn’t exactly going to force himself on Harry. The boy was very malleable, he would have him willingly submit to him. He would have Harry to be his own personal house-elf, and tend to all of his dark, secret desires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter was more foundational than smutty. The smutty parts are to follow. Be warned, there is going to be extreme kinks and abuse.  
> And have you guessed who is Harry's elf-daddy yet?!


	2. The Memory Jar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of conversation between Harry and Dumbledore. A voyeuristic peep into Lily's past. Harry gets to know who his daddy is, among other things.

If Harry thought that Aunt Petunia worked his bones off, it was nothing compared to what the house elves had to do at Hogwarts. The house elves had been so smitten by him during the first week of his stay there, that they never asked him to do anything. He would stay by the kitchen hearth sipping hot chocolate or slightly chilled pumpkin juice as hundreds of them scurried about, preparing meals for the entire school. He had never had so much food in his entire life…the day after his first meeting with Dumbledore, he had had eggs, sausage sandwiches and orange juice for breakfast, and roast beef, kidney pie, some bacon and chocolate gateau for lunch and for the feast at night, more items than he could care to remember. The other house elves ate very little, and from the remains of what was left on the plate from others’ when they cleared them from the great hall.

Harry was totally mind-blown by Hogwarts—Wanda had taken him along as she went around to mop the floors of the castle on his first day there, before the students arrived for the new term. And then he had had a glimpse of the backs of the first years marching off to the castle doors by late evening when he was with Wanda and a few other house elves to pick up their luggage from the little boats by the end of the dark lake. How he wished he was one among them…only if his mother had conceived him with another human being! He wished Dumbledore would conceal his elf-ears, and freakish large eyes…then maybe he could make a few friends among those witches and wizards his age. He wondered when Dumbledore would talk to him next, there was a pressing question in his mind that he was too bewildered to ask during their first meeting. He needed to know; he needed some proof to believe that his mother did what the headmaster claimed she did. Harry couldn’t yet wrap his head around the idea that his mother had been unfaithful to her husband, that too for a dwarfish, unflattering creature like a house elf.

It was almost a week later that the headmaster had asked to see Harry again. He wanted to give Harry time, to settle in with the other house elves and to his new life and routine. It was a little past evening when he asked Wanda to ask Harry to come to his office. He put up some caramel flavored tea on his kettle, and washed two cups and saucers and kept them on the table by the corner of his office. He could no longer help himself—he had constantly been on his edge ever since he saw the boy last week and gently stroked his loins as he waited for Harry’s knock on his door. He imagined the bony boy sitting on his lap, looking up at him with his green doe-eyes. Dumbledore imagined pulling down those little pointy pink ears to make the boy take in his large cock, bit by bit, until he chokes and his little throat spasms around his member painfully. He would still keep Harry down choking ads he filled him with spurts of his hot cum. Dumbledore couldn’t move when he heard gentle knocks on the door to his office as he came uncontrollably on one of the saucers he kept on the table. He was a little out of breath by the time he rearranged his garments, and walked across the room to open the door for Harry.

“Come on in,” Dumbledore said as he motioned Harry inside with a cheerful smile, his ocean-blue eyes fixing on the boy with a certain approval, “Take a seat. Will you have some tea, Harry? I have just put up some for both of us.”

“Yes, sure, sir,” Harry said, sitting by the edge of the seat, passing a friendly smile to the old man.

Dumbledore walked to his kettle table, poured the caramel tea generously into the cups. He added a spoon of cream on top of his cup, but then scooped up a tablespoon of his cum from the saucer and topped it up on Harry’s cup. _Delicious wads of cream for my little boy_ , Dumbledore snickered inside his mind.

“I hope you don’t mind taking some cream with your tea, Harry?” he asked, as he passed Harry his cup across the table.

“No, sir. Thank you.”

Dumbledore took a sip from his cup, placed his hands across the table and looked at Harry with a fake concern, “Wanda told me you have been asking to meet me. I was a little busy with the start of the new term and everything, but, do tell me Harry, are you facing any difficulty with the other house elves?”

“No, sir. They are all very kind to me. They won’t even let me help around a bit in the kitchen. Not that I would be much of a help—"

“That is because I have asked them to treat you as a superior, Harry”, Dumbledore cut him off gently and continued, “rather than as one among them, because I am inclined to see you as something far above the rank of a common slavish creature, despite your parentage. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be enlisted as a house elf in the Ministry register, but the law is what it is, Harry.”

“Umm…I understand sir. I just wanted to ask you something,” Harry continued with hesitation, he had been waiting to ask this for the whole week, “I was wondering sir, if you knew, who my…real father is. Is …is he alive now?”

“Yes, Harry. Of course, I know. And yes, he is alive,” Dumbledore was gauging Harry’s expression as he went on, “House-elves do have a long life, Harry.”

“Is he here—in the kitchen?” Harry blurted out.

Dumbledore smiled inwards; _wanton, little boy_ , Dumbledore thought, _now he wants to be reunited with his daddy_.

“Harry, the house-elves we have here in Hogwarts are those who don’t have a family to serve under. But your father belongs to an ancient pure-blood family. He was in fact serving the family of one of James Potter’s closest friends. In fact, I even have evidence to suggest that James knew about Lily’s secret pleasures”.

“No, he didn’t! Why would he let…no…mom didn’t!” Harry exclaimed, startled out of his breath.

“You don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that, sir, I just…” Harry trailed off, uncertain how to voice his doubts without offending the headmaster.

Dumbledore sighed, took off his half-moon spectacles, wiped them, and put them back again. “I think I should show you something, Harry,” Dumbledore said standing up, “I didn’t want to contaminate an young mind like yours, but if I don’t show you now, you will choose to reject what you so obviously don’t want to believe”.

He walked off to an adjacent room by his office—it was a small room, closeted off from his office by a curtain and had a large shelf, adjoined to the wall, and a plush sofa opposite it. There were glass jars lined across the shelf, with silver-white translucent contents swirling in each jar. Every jar was also etched by a few words, on the neck below its lid. This was, to put simply, Dumbledore’s porn stash. The jars contained "memories" that belonged to several witches, wizards and even elves—of them fucking their partners or engaging themselves in various kinky scenarios. Most wizards and witches were content with the porno magazines with moving pictures, but Dumbledore was a man of refined tastes—he much preferred to get into the moment and watch as the memory played out in the Pensieve. His kinks were many, and he had collected some really exquisite memories…most of which he had paid for and acquired from the wizarding black market. There were also a few from the students that he had caught shagging each other in some private corner of the school… he faked a high moral ground on such occasions and would demand the students to yield up their memory rather than be corrupted with it for the rest of their lives. What they didn’t know was that the headmaster would use those to get himself off, lying on his sofa on many of his cold, lonely nights.

Dumbledore ran his fingers across the jars until he found the one he was looking for. It had the house elf’s name neatly etched across it, one inch below its lid: **_Kreacher and Lily_**. Kreacher had let him take the memory without much ado the night the Potters died—Snape had right away informed him that the child had elfish features and they had Kreacher cornered that night. Dumbledore cast a spell and the jar with Kreacher’s memory and the Pensieve, which he kept atop the shelf floated behind him as he walked back to his office.

He swirled the contents of the jar in the Pensieve as he explained to Harry how he came to collect this memory and about how the Pensieve works. As the contents dissolved into the Pensieve, Dumbledore extended his hand to Harry and said, “Let us go through your father’s memory lane, Harry. If you will come over here…”

Harry bent over the Pensieve; his face broke through the cool surface of Kreacher’s memory and then he was falling through an abyss and before he knew it, he was knocked into a dimly-lit room. He opened his eyes and saw that Dumbledore was beside him; he spun around to the other side and saw that a man with untidy, greasy hair like his, was sitting on a tufted wing chair, just beside the hearth. An extremely-ugly looking house elf with white hairs growing out of his bat-like ears was sprawled out at the man’s feet. Dumbledore took Harry by the hand and moved closer to where they were talking to each other in low voice.

“Kreacher can’t…not with the m.. _mudblood_ …please, _please_ Mr.Potter. What would Kreacher’s Mistress say if she were alive…” the elf broke down and touched James’ boot.

“Hush. You better watch your mouth around her, you filth. You say mudblood again, and I will have Sirius behead you and have it hanging on that wall in his house,” the man spat at the elf before he added, “ You will obey me as your master asked you to, do you understand?"

Kreacher was mumbling under his breath now, obviously not daring to have James hear his words. James leaned forward towards Kreacher and whispered maliciously, "Or maybe you would have me call your Master to discipline you? Have you already forgotten the last time Sirius and I punished you for your impudence, vermin?”

“No, no,no…” Kreacher squeaked.

James laughed out loud looking at the way Kreacher lay whimpering at his feet. He took out his wand and pointed it at the house elf, his lips forming the spell inaudibly: “ _Levicorpus_ ”.

The house elf was thrown into the air, his body upside-down, and his loin cloth fell over his head, revealing the surprisingly human-like loins. Harry was surprised to note that despite his shortness, the elf had an abnormally huge, well-shaped cock. The shaft of the elf’s penis was slick and dangled down the air beautifully. James got up from his chair, prodded his exposed balls with his wand and nodded in appreciation. Kreacher’s balls hung so low, like an old dog’s and had many reddish burn marks splattered across it.

“I see your dirty old ball-sacks have retained some mementos from your last punishment. Now, if you’d wait, I’ll just have Sirius—”

“No,” Kreacher screeched, “Please, sir. I’ll do anything… Kreacher won’t call the _m…mu..miss_ anything... Kreacher will obey! ”. James looked well-pleased with himself.

The floor disintegrated, Harry was falling through darkness again, and when he came around a second later, he was in a bedroom. There was a king-sized bed in the middle of the room and Kreacher was lying spread-eagled across it, completely naked. Harry noticed that the elf’s arms and legs were tied around the four corners of the bedpost with rope. Harry recoiled as he recognized the woman standing over the bed as his mother—he had seen one photo of hers as a teenager with his aunt and their parents, hidden in a box in the Dursleys’ attic. Lily just had her lingerie on as she leaned forwards and ran her hands over Kreacher’s chest, and giggled softly. Her hands brushed past his somewhat sore and protruding nipples before she raised them and hit his chest again with a hard slap.

“Would ya like some nipple-clamps, mumpkin?” Lily asked with a smirk.

The house elf pressed his lips together and looked down in an attempt to evade the question. Lily gave a loud smack across his face and her eyes shot daggers at him. “I asked you a fucking question!”

“If you want it…then yes…M..miss,” Kreacher mumbled.

“That’s a good slave,” Lily cooed as she tightened two big nipple clamps on his already sore nipples. She then flicked the clamps with her fingers and laughed out loud as the house elf writhed in pain. She took off her panties and sat on Kreacher’s face, gripping his large ears to steady herself to move her groins against his bulbous, snout-like nose.

“I have missed this, Kreaches. You have no idea how good your ugly nose feels against my clit. Lick my pussy, will ya?”

Harry could no longer look at what was going on before him, the headmaster seemed to be watching the scene with some satisfaction. He wanted to tell the old wizard that he had seen enough, but some part of him wanted it to play out to its natural end…wanted to know how far his mother would go in this. He averted his eyes from his mother and looked around the room and felt sick to his stomach as his gaze fell on the figure of James relaxing on an armchair in a shady corner of the room, looking smugly at the scene before him. Kreacher was now obviously licking Lily’s opening—she was moaning too loudly, grabbing onto his nipple clamps as she rubbed her labia fervently across the elf’s face in circular motion. She leaned across Kreacher’s dwarfish body and wrapped her hands around his large cock, looking right at James with a smile forming on the corners of her lips. The elf’s foreskin was lubing itself and was slick to her touch. She dabbed some of his elfish penile-lube with a finger and licked it off.

“Mmm…oh God, I can never get tired of elfish slick!”

She pressed Kreacher’s member hard with her fingers and moved them up and down until it became rock-hard. She got up from his face and leaned across the bed to grasp a wooden paddle from the nearby table. Kreacher started to snivel as she gave a few swats with it over his nipple clamps, and then over his torso, finally landing thumps on his erect dick.

“Aww...oww...Miss, please, have mercy…aww,” the elf pleaded, writhing in pain.

“Take it like a good slave, Kreachy. I know you want it. Didn’t your old fat pure-blood mistress make you service her?”

Lily gave a few more quick slaps across his cock with her paddle before she got up from his face and mounted his cock. She looked ecstatic as she rode him; Kreacher’s impish body oscillated back and forth in bed as Lily groaned with pleasure. Harry had turned his focus to the expressions on James’ face, just to have somewhere else to look other than at his mother’s cruel ministrations on his supposed father and was shocked to see James sliding his hands inside his pants to stroke his dick to the sight of his wife fucking his friend’s house elf.

Harry wanted to go back, he was sure he couldn’t stand one more minute of this, but was ashamed to say that to the headmaster. His heart was sinking, his parents were after all, pathetic, crazy people, and he was just the product of an old abused house elf. His eyes were filling over with hurt as his mother climaxed with a roar and fell dead on top of Kreacher, and James got up from his armchair, aiming to shoot his cum onto Kreacher’s face from the distance, but missed by a few inches. He sighed and lay back on his chair, rather disappointed with himself. “Do suck it off, Kreachy,” he added as an afterthought.

Even Kreacher looked weirdly satisfied. Dumbledore curled his lips, realizing that Kreacher must have _intentionally_ jizzed inside her, out of spite—after all, house elves had appreciable control in such matters and weren’t allowed to cum without explicit permission from their masters. Most house elves were never allowed to cum in their whole, lengthy lives. _Poor girl_ , Dumbledore thought, _she must have shat her pants once she realized the child was Kreacher’s_.

The floor broke through and again they fell through darkness, and landed back on their feet on Dumbledore’s office as the memory reached its climax. Harry fell down to the floor and starting sobbing uncontrollably, with his head in his hands. He had thought that children were born out of the sweet, naked embrace of a loving husband and wife, but the things he saw, the vile, pitiless face of his mother torturing the elf… and the writhing body of Kreacher in pain…

“Harry,” Dumbledore spoke softly, lowering himself next to the boy, with worry etched on his wrinkled forehead, “I am sorry I had to show you that. There was no other way for me to convince you of the truth. It’s better that you know now and not cloud your mind with further delusions about your parents”.

“Bbu—but...my mother…she is so… evil!” Harry managed to say in between his sobs, “She hurt him…how could she…how could she be _so cruel!_ ”

Dumbledore put his arms around Harry’s shoulder and snuggled him closer, in the pretext of soothing him and sighed dramatically. “I can assure you, Harry, your mother wasn’t the first to treat a house elf like that. House elves used to be extremely pretty little things many centuries back…and they were very servile and wanted to be owned desperately…it was only natural then that a lot of witches and wizards started making them their sexual _slaves_. They made them do all kinds of things for centuries, and mated and bred with them. The Ministry, of course, had to discourage this as the half-elfish children had not much magical powers and were weaklings…the wizard-blood would have gotten totally washed away if they hadn’t interfered and cursed the pretty little things with some repealing bodily features and made strict laws against breeding with the elves.” Dumbledore paused to drink in the beauty of the wide-eyed boy gaping at him, eagerly absorbing every word coming out of him; _obviously the half-elf nymphs somehow managed to retain all the beauty of their ancients_ , Dumbledore thought, and felt his cock straining under his clothes.

“So, Harry, the creatures who started out in wizarding families as sexual slaves, turned to the role of the domestic help in their Masters’ households. Still, there are a lot of witches and wizards who take a thing to their house elves’ enchanting…loins, like your mother. Even though having sex with a house-elf is not illegal, breeding with them will have severe consequences for both the parties involved, _especially_ , for the house elf.”

“But it was her who did that to him…was _he_ punished by the law… _my father_?” Harry asked abruptly, with a tint of concern in his voice.

“No, Harry, you saved him,” Dumbledore said, getting up, and helping Harry up to his chair, and then walked across the table to sit on his. “After all, the Ministry didn’t want to behead the house elf who was somehow responsible for the downfall of the Dark Lord,” Dumbledore continued smilingly, at the look of astonishment at Harry’s face, “Our main hunch as to why you survived the Dark Lord is owing to your elf-blood. The killing curse doesn’t work for house-elves, Harry—they have to be killed manually. House elves do have some magical “resistance”, that the wizard-kind lacks. Obviously, Voldemort had no clue about your identity as a half-elf as he cast the spell, and you were able to deflect his spell, most probably, owing to the elfish blood you had in you. Which worked out great not only for you, but also for the wizarding world”.

Harry sighed as he realized that he had defeated the Dark Lord, not owing to any specialty of his—it had only been an accident, the silly mistake Voldemort made by not realizing that the baby was not entirely human. The headmaster looked at him understandingly as he continued, “What I am trying to tell you is this, Harry…you shouldn’t take it too hard on your parents. There is no reason for you to get worked up over what they did, and why they did what they did.”

Harry smiled, and nodded. “Thank you, sir. For everything…I will try not to think…too much…about all this”. _Dumbledore is the nicest person he had ever known_ , Harry thought _, he had already done so much for him, taken so much trouble to let Harry know about his parents and even assured him not to feel bad about such freakish parents. He didn’t deserve this man’s kindness, there was no way he could ever repay the headmaster for all that he had done for him…_

“You didn’t have your tea, Harry,” Dumbledore remarked leaning across the table, “Here, let me warm it up for you”. He flicked his wand to cast a spell, and the cup got warm in Harry’s hands. Dumbledore watched with relish as Harry raised the cup to his lips, gently blew on it, and took a lick of his cum and froth with his tiny bubblegum-pink tongue. Harry swallowed it fully, looked up, and seeing that the headmaster was watching him intently, smiled innocently at the old man. If the cream tasted bitter than the ones he has had before, he didn't complain.

“How’s it? Warm enough for you, Harry?” Dumbledore asked hardly able to hold himself back.

“Yes, sir. It’s delicious, thank you,” Harry replied with a sweet smile and raised the cup again to his lips to slurp on the rest of his creamy caramel-tea eagerly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, I will have Dumbledore make his move at Harry by the next chapter. I just can't resist having Dumblebee fuck up Harry's mind bit by bit before he decides to have him!


	3. The Elf Training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than I expected to update. Anyways, here you go. And thanks to you all for the reviews, bookmarks and subscriptions; it is truly overwhelming!

Harry knew he had screwed up badly. The whole kitchen was indubitably a _mess_ , the lunch would be delayed for everyone in the castle and he was the culprit. He had just wanted to help with something in the kitchen—he knew and had accepted himself as a house-elf now, and he didn’t want to be treated any differently by the kitchen elves. He had offered to mop the kitchen floor, in fact insisted on it, after they had gotten ready all the three courses for the meal. They had stood by the corner, watching Harry in awe as he strutted about dragging along the bucket and mop and was almost done with cleaning when he slipped and inadvertently kicked the bucked with the dirty water in his attempt to gain his balance. It flew a meter right across the room splashing the dirty water across the carpet where the house elves had put the prepared lunch in large vessels to cool off. Harry had watched in horror as the dirty water splashed across and the bucket fell on the large vessel of chicken gravy. As he had got up and ran in a hurry to retrieve the bucket, he stepped on the tofu grill pan and tripping on hot squishy roasted tofus, fell on the rice pudding right on his back.

The house-elves were in a frenzy, they helped him up but knew that almost everything for the lunch was now ruined. They knew they wouldn’t be able to serve the lunch on time. Harry watched horror-struck as the house-elves started to whimper and beat up their heads on the floor and walls and started to wail in anguish. The whole kitchen was an absolute mess and Harry could feel his back had burnt from the hot pudding. Harry wanted to cry, probably they will throw him out when they come to know how much damage he had caused…after all a meal has never been late by a minute in the history of Hogwarts. The house-elves have never failed in their kitchen duties, never before.

The door to the kitchen flew open and Harry gaped, with shame or with relief he didn’t know, as he watched the headmaster stride into the kitchen in his emerald robe. He didn’t seem surprised at the scene before him, almost as if he knew what he was walking into. He didn’t look at Harry as he spoke in his loud and clear voice, causing every house-elf in the room to stop midway of their self-inflicted punishments.

“Stop this absurdity! What on Merlin’s name is going on here?”

“Meal is ruined, Master! Please forgive us” Wanda replied, as the other house-elves seemed too scared to open their mouths, her thin frame falling onto her knees before the headmaster, her whole body shivering in fear.

“I can very well see that,” Dumbledore said without any emotion, looking at the wreckage by the side, “What I don’t understand is the havoc you all are making here. Try to make something else, for heaven’s sake! I will make the announcement that lunch will be served late today”. He waved his wand to clean up the mess, and as the house-elves started scurrying across the kitchen, Dumbledore turned his tranquil blue eyes towards Harry for the first time since he had entered the kitchen.

“You seem to be drenched, Harry. Come with me,” Dumbledore extended his hand, with a light, friendly smile, “I hope for your sake that you have not burnt your back.”

…

Harry sat in the Headmaster’s office, on the tip of his chair, wrapped in the pink robe the old man gave him, deeply embarrassed at himself. The headmaster had spread out his drenched, rice-pudding smelling clothes out across his window bars to dry up in the afternoon sun. He could have just used a spell to dry it up, but he wasn’t going to miss seeing the sorry boy sitting huddled in the cute little bathing robe he gave him—the rosy robe had belonged to his former young lover and Harry just looked like a pure meal in it. Harry’s back was a bit sore from the hotness of the pudding he fell into, but no significant damage had been done. Dumbledore had asked him to take off his top to inspect his back and had given Harry some kind of a healing potion. There was no pain there, but only in the boy’s mind. The headmaster seemed to know exactly what happened; this didn’t surprise Harry, after all, he supposed he was the only screw-up house-elf there, everyone else except him seemed to know how to go about their duties. He looked up at the headmaster hesitantly.

“I.. I am sorry, sir. It was all my mistake! I tripped and …the bucket and I fell on it,” Harry continued, embarrassment coloring his cheeks red, “I just wanted to help in the kitchen!”.

“It’s okay, Harry,” Dumbledore said, looking at him through his half-moon spectacles with mild interest, “Hogwarts won’t fall apart if one meal got late by an hour. Surely classes would have to be postponed, but it is alright. I am glad that our house elves at least had the sense to help you out before you got deeply burnt”.

The boy met his eyes, deeply surprised at this kind of kindness. He would have been taking a hard spanking on his ass and far worse if this had happened in Privet 4. Harry’s eyes filled up with tears of gratitude, of love towards this old, kind man. His mind was made up when he spoke, and he was trying to keep his voice steady without quivering, “Sir, why do the other house-elves never make any slight mistakes? They are not clumsy or careless, they always know what they are doing, and do it best. Why am I not like that! I want to be useful like them!”

Dumbledore smiled deeply. _Oh my!_ Dumbledore thought, _this delicious, fussy boy of mine wants to make himself useful!_

“Oh, Harry! Many wizards make the mistake of pre-supposing that house-elves are born with a certain knack for doing chores, that it is in the elf blood. But it is not so easy as that. Everything the elves do, they have taken years to master it, and mastered it under the strict discipline and guidance of their parents. Every one of them has undergone a training period, as long as necessary, to master their arts,” Dumbledore licked his lower lips, adjusted his spectacles and continued, “But in your case, I can’t ask Kreacher to give you your training as his ownership lies with Sirius now, and yours under the school, as far as the Ministry records is concerned with. Anyways, I’m glad you brought this up, Harry, you would need to be initiated with your elf-training, it was only a matter-of-time.”

“But then who would train me! Could any of the other house-elves do it?” Harry asked expectantly.

“No, they can’t. In the absence of the guidance by a strict parent-elf, it is incumbent upon the Master or Mistress to give their house elf their training. In your case, it would be _my responsibility_ , as the headmaster of Hogwarts.” Dumbledore continued, noticing the expression of relief and excitement on the boy’s face, “Don’t look so excited now, Harry. The training is no little matter. Once it begins, I wouldn’t be able to let you off on things. The house-elf training calls for staunch discipline and obedience from the elf, the lack of which would be met with the strictest chastisement of the Master’s choosing. So, if you make mistakes, like the one you made today, I would have to give you the necessary punishment, whether I Iike it or not, for your own betterment.”

Harry nodded, none of the excitement gone from his face. He would only be glad to be trained by Dumbledore, if that meant he could spend more time with the old man. And he wasn’t a stranger to punishments, he had more than enough of his share from his aunt’s hand.

“Answer me, Harry. Should I initiate the training with you, starting now—are you ready for that? Would you obey me in my all commands, without hesitation, and be of service to me and to the school?”

“Yes, sir. I will,” the boy replied without hesitation.

“ _Master_. You would address me as your Master from now on, Harry.”

“Yes, _Master_ ,” the raven-haired boy cooed.

“Very well. Now that does sound better,” Dumbledore smiled, hot desire flooding across his limbs.

What he wouldn’t have given to grab that hair and see the boy’s wide green eyes bulge as he gagged the boy’s little mouth with his throbbing member, right then and there. But he was a man of patience. All of that in due time, Dumbledore thought, first he would have the boy know what it means to be a house elf. That elf-training is really about years of nerve-wrecking and horrendous punishments, even for the slightest of mistakes. That by the end of it, the house-elves not only learn to be scrupulous in their duties, but also wouldn’t need to be punished by their Master’s hand. At some point, they just start to do it themselves, they start to internalize it that they _deserve_ punishment, even for the slightest error. That is all the training is meant to accomplish. However, Dumbledore had no intention about making Harry a full-fledged elf.

 _Anyways, the boy is too fragile for that matter. I would have to let him serve me for more delicate matters_ , the old wizard thought with a smile playing on his lips.

“You see, Harry, I left you under your aunt’s care because I thought she would instill some obedience and discipline into you, which are very important qualities for a house elf,” Dumbledore had no emotion in his voice as he continued, “ And as far as I have noticed, she has not in her treatment of you, pampered you like he has with her son. Your kind aunt has even provided you with the basic training in the arts of kitchen-work and cleaning, I believe. Not so much in cleaning, as we witnessed today, nevertheless, we will begin with the basics of cleaning”.

Harry nodded, hanging on to his every word. Dumbledore opened a drawer under his table to withdraw his cum rag. Dumbledore wasn’t a fan of tissues, and he had been wiping his jizz off in this cloth ever since Harry came to Hogwarts and Merlin knows how badly it needed washing. While he was taking it out, Dumbledore silently cast a spell to make a permanent black spot on the cloth piece.

“Why don’t we start with a dirty handkerchief?” Dumbledore said jovially, as he handed over the dirty rag reeking of his musky, wads of dried ejaculate to Harry across the table.

“You can take it back with you to the kitchen and do the washing. It won’t take more than a few hours to dry, so you can report back to me with it at 8’o clock today,” Dumbledore continued, fixing Harry with his gaze, “As I mentioned before, I won’t tolerate any more mistakes from your side. So, be scrupulous with it. Of course, I’m sure washing a handkerchief is rather an easy one to give as your first task, Harry”.

Harry nodded again, holding onto the handkerchief.

“Before you go, there is something I’ve been meaning to give you,” Dumbledore said as he got up from his chair and walked into the adjacent room by his office, where he kept his exotic porn stash of memory jars. The emerald green shorts, a tight sleeveless, pink girly top and the black thong he had bought for the boy was lying on the sofa. He had ordered them a few days back from Diagon Alley, among other things, but the owls had delivered these early. He gathered those and walked back to his office.

“You see, Harry, I can’t present you with clothes after the training period. You will have to do with a bland loincloth for years, like the other elves. So, while we have the time, I believe a pretty boy like you should be trying on pretty clothes. Here, these are for you. I expect you to wear these when you come to see me in the evening.”

“Thank you,” Harry mumbled, embarrassed at the thought of wearing such exposing shorts, and a thong instead of an underwear. He only recognized the latter as he had seen something of the similar sort worn by girls in some of the porno magazines Dudley had made him go through. Nevertheless, Harry couldn’t help but look grateful as it was the first time someone had given him new clothes which were of his size. Throughout his life, he had only been given the hand-me-down overlarge clothes of his cousin Dudley.

“Thank you what?” Dumbledore asked him rather sharply, “What is the first instruction I have given you, Harry? Or have you already forgotten it?”

“Umm…I’m sorry, I mean, thank you, _Maste_ r” the boy corrected himself, blushing hard.

Dumbledore smiled, putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “If I’m going to train you to be my elf boy Harry, you will have to do better than that. What is wrong with your last response, Harry?”

“Erm…I… I don’t know, Master, I just thanked you,” Harry was totally lost and wondering what Dumbledore was driving at when it suddenly hit him _. Surely, the headmaster doesn’t expect him to do everything like the other house-elves_ , Harry wondered, _or maybe he does_.

“What is it Harry? I want you to reframe what you just said before.”

Harry hesitated for just a moment before he replied, flushed, “ _Harry_ is sorry, Master. _Harry_ thanks his Master for the clothes”.

“Now, you are learning. I don’t want to overburden your mind with a lot of instructions today. But I want you to keep this in mind. Humility is the most important virtue in a house-elf. It is only from humility that the other values get cultivated. It will boggle one’s mind when one learns to withdraw the sense of self or “I”ness from one’s day to day life,” the old wizard went on, gauging the boy’s confused expression, “What I’m trying to say is this, Harry, that there is a reason why house elves are prohibited from using the first person pronoun to refer to themselves. Referring to oneself only via one’s name is in itself an act of humility, a certain self-objectivization, which goes a long way for cultivating the appreciable qualities in a house-elf.”

Harry just nodded, suddenly afraid of saying the wrong thing and feeling a dark foreboding that being a house-elf and training to be one would be more challenging than he considered before. Dumbledore noticed the slight pout of worry on the boy’s face and laughed light-heartedly.

“Now, now, don’t look so disheartened, Harry. Just keep in mind the few instructions I’ve given you. Other than that, you can continue your life as before,” Dumbledore ran his hand over the boy’s messy hair, trying to appear reassuring, “Now, off you go and have your lunch. It must be ready by now and don’t forget to wash the cloth thoroughly and report back with it on time, at 8’o clock. Also, you can keep the bathrobe, Harry, it looks good on you”.

As Harry coyly muttered a “Thank you, Master,” and went outside the office, Dumbledore went back to his table to withdraw the piece of enchanted mirror he kept inside his drawer. As he tapped on it with his wand, the mirror showed the reflection from the other larger mirror piece he had set up in the kitchen. He had installed it there, in view of where Harry slept, the day after Harry arrived in Hogwarts. It was how he knew when the house-elves in the kitchen were throwing havoc after Harry ruined the prepared meal, and it mostly helped the headmaster to monitor what the boy was up to, and Harry never doubted it as anything more than an ordinary mirror. Dumbledore watched in acute thrill, his hand stroking his length as his new elf-in-training reached out to the kitchen sink on his toes to wash his cum-soaked dirty cloth with his hands and a bar of soap. He wished he could just stuff the cum-rag inside the boy’s pouty mouth and use the elf-nymph as his own personal cum-rag. _All in due time,_ he assured himself as he worked through his release.


	4. The Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore drops all pretenses.

In the few weeks Harry had been in Hogwarts, he had grown fond of Wanda. He was more or less intimidated by the appearance and mannerisms of the other house-elves in the kitchen but Wanda looked and behaved _almost_ like a human girl. An overtly sexual version of a normal girl, that is. But more than that, she took care of him. She would tell Harry different stories about Hogwarts, rumors about the popular students there during the nights he tagged along with her to the different dormitories and elaborate stairways of Hogwarts when she had to sweep them. Wanda also would make sure to keep some food aside for Harry before they sent everything into the great Hall, even though that was against the rules. Because a good house elf was supposed to limit themselves to the leftovers of their Master’s plate rather than gorge on fresh food but as far as Wanda was concerned Harry was half-human, so above her own standard as a house-elf. So, on the afternoon when Harry found out he was unable to wash away the black spot on the kerchief his Master had given him, he had asked Wanda to help. And Wanda finding it unremovable by soap used her elf-magic to make the kerchief spotless.

Harry had been waiting outside his Master’s room for some time before the clock struck eight and it was fifteen minutes later then that Dumbledore’s voice asked him to come in. Harry was wearing the green shorts and sleeveless top the headmaster had given him. It had drawn a few strange looks in the kitchen from the other elves and even Wanda had given him an odd, almost pitying look he couldn’t understand. He had looked himself in the mirror before he left the kitchen and even though he was uncomfortable about showing too much of his skin, the smooth, rich texture of the cloth was unlike anything he owned. He just wished there was more cloth is all.

As Harry walked into the office, he almost thought he had walked into another room—the appearance of the room had totally changed. Dumbledore’s wooden table and everything had disappeared and it looked more like a … _bedroom_. The lighting was soft, the portraits were gone, even the color of the walls were different, there was a plush bed in one corner of the room and the room itself looked bigger than the office somehow.

“Good evening, Harry,” Dumbledore said, looking up from a book he was reading on an armchair by the corner of the room, “You can stop gaping now, even though that itself is a pretty sight—I can see that the clothes suit you well.”

“Umm…thanks. The room looks different,” Harry mumbled awkwardly, somehow his face warming up at the compliment.

“I just rearrange the room a bit after the official hours when I’m sleeping over in my office—which is on most nights. Anyways, it just takes a wave to do it and I’m more comfortable here than in the staff quarters.”

“It’s nice,” Harry said, wondering at what all one could just do with magic _. Knowing how to do all these must be amazing_ , Harry thought, with a bittersweet pang in his chest.

“Oh, I’m glad you like it, Harry. But I wonder why you are not referring to me as your _Master_. Have you completed the task?” Dumbledore asked, fixing Harry under his gaze.

Harry nodded and passed the kerchief to him when the old wizard extended his hand from the armchair. Dumbledore examined it under his reading light, a frown forming on his face.

“So, who helped you clean it?” Dumbledore asked, almost quietly.

“Umm… Wanda helped… with one blot I couldn’t remove, Master,” Harry replied uncertainly, wondering if it was a bad thing to have asked her help.

“Was this a task to check Wanda’s cleaning abilities?” Dumbledore snapped at him.

“Umm…No, Master. I—”

“Then tell me why on earth would you make another elf do what I had explicitly asked you to do?” Dumbledore asked, cutting Harry off.

“I’m sorry, Master, I couldn’t—”

“I? Who is this _I_ , Harry? Of the very few things we discussed a few hours before, I thought I had prohibited you to use that letter? Or you have such a short-term memory?”

Harry gawked, suddenly at a total loss for words.

“This was a test at sincerity, Harry. If you had brought that back, expressed your regret at not being able to finish the task and begged for punishment, you would have immensely pleased me. But you decided to be a wicked, you thought you could get away with it,” Dumbledore paused, scrutinizing the boy before him.

“No, I—Harry didn’t want to disappoint. Harry is sorry, Master. Please forgive me—” Harry said feebly, his face coloring up with embarrassment.

“Apologies don’t help in training an elf, punishments do. I told you as much in the afternoon, Harry.” Dumbledore rose from his chair, flicked his finger and murmured Wanda’s name and she plopped into his office a second later.

She bowed deeply before Dumbledore, and Harry noticed her firm cleavage pushing against her transparent loin cloth as she leaned. “What may Wanda do for her master?” she said, still bowing before Dumbledore.

“Wanda, why would you help Harry with the first task I had given him as part of his elf training? Surely you know that is against the rules?”

“Oh! Master, Wanda is sorry! Harry not tell Wanda Master was training Harry! Wanda not help Harry if she knew!” Wanda said, dropping onto her knees before Dumbledore.

“I thought as much. A good elf-girl like would know better. But, Wanda, that is not only the only rule you have broken for Harry, is it? The other elves have reported to me about you stacking food for Harry before sending it to your Masters!”

Wanda threw herself on her all fours, her head positioned above Dumbledore’s feet, her whole body shaking, large beads of teardrops falling from her eyes, “Please, Master. Wanda didn’t mean to offend her Masters,” her shrill voice quivered as she started hitting her head on the ground, “Oh, Wanda need be punished…Wanda been bad!”

“Stop it. Don’t move, now,” Dumbledore snapped, “It’s no matter, Wanda, I had asked you to treat Harry specially. But that changed today as Harry had sworn to me to start his training as a house elf. Harry will eat as I see fit to leave on my plate from this day on. You will make sure he doesn’t have from any others’.”

“Yes, Master,” Wanda cooed dutifully to Harry’s surprise.

“Nevertheless, you will be punished for ruining my first task for him. You can take off your cloth, move to the center of the room and assume your submissive posture,” Dumbledore said without emotion.

Harry was dumbfounded as Wanda removed her only bit of cloth and stretched on her all fours holding out her pear-shaped buttocks before the old man, her forehead touching the ground.

“Now, Harry, different wizards have set different submissive postures for their elves. The elf assumes the posture to show their compliance for punishment. This is by far, the one I prefer.”

Harry opened his mouth and closed it—his mouth felt too dry and he was unsure how to respond to that.

“P—Please…please, Master. _Punish me, not her_. It was my mistake,” Harry managed to say.

“Not punishments have to be corporeal, Harry. I may not strike you today, but I will have you watch your friend get punished for your incompetence. Now, count for me, Wanda,” Dumbledore said, watching Harry as he summoned a large whip from dry air. It was around five feet with a silvery cord and a golden handle adorned with beautiful stones. There was a tight knot on the end of the whip and Harry had never seen something so beautiful and terrible at the same time. Dumbledore lashed the whip through the air once as if to test. Harry was still in shock as he watched the whip cutting through the air and landing with a hard crack on Wanda’s plump buttocks. Wanda’s head dropped in splitting pain, her ass-cheeks throbbing with the impact the knot of the whip had made on her skin but she held her ass up firmly.

“One…thank you, Master,” Wanda said through a stifled cry.

The cracking sound had reverberated through the room and Harry hoped that someone would come to help. He couldn’t believe that Dumbledore could be this extreme in his punishment.

Wanda barely moved an inch as Dumbledore landed one blow after the other, the whip cracking through the air, to find the exact same spot on her left ass-cheeks, again and again. Even though her head shook uncontrollably in her piteous crying, she held her ass-cheeks firm and counted and thanked after every blow the headmaster landed on her. Even though Harry was on the verge of tears for letting this happen to her, he couldn’t help but feel a strange fascination towards the scarlet hues which were forming on her cheeks. Harry had kept hoping that the headmaster would stop at the ten or twenty or thirtieth blow, but Dumbledore landed one blow after the other. He started begging Dumbledore to stop after the fiftieth blow but he heeded no ear to the boy. By the sixty-fourth blow, the boy couldn’t take what he was seeing anymore and threw himself on the floor beside Wanda, positing himself on his all fours before Dumbledore, like her. Dumbledore paused to consider the boy before him. Harry pleaded, looking back at his Master, extending his butts further, “Please…please punish me… _punish me_ instead of her…Master!”

Dumbledore relished the sight of the little elf-boy awkwardly stretching his rear towards him. He ran his other hand over the knotted cord of the whip considering Harry… _the boy was offering himself sooner than he had expected. Such a sweetheart!_

“You would have to do better than that, Harry,” Dumbledore said, struggling to take his glance away from Harry, raising his whip again to land another blow on Wanda’s cheeks, “Your half-hearted attempts at doing things don’t work, in case you have not noticed”.

Harry’s head was suddenly flooding with anger. He had no patience at all left for the old man’s gibberish anymore. He was so fed up with Dumbledore. Harry stood up and looked Dumbledore right in the eyes as he shouted at the old man, “What do you mean anyways? I—yes, I will refer to myself as ‘I’ as any sane person. I hate you! I fucking hate you. You can throw me out of this school or whatever for all I care! You...you smug—smug rascal!”

Dumbledore watched Harry in mild interest, surprised at the boy’s outburst. Still, he wanted to laugh at his lamb-like boy acting so cute and agitated all of a sudden. _The whore that was asking to be punished only a few seconds back is acting so angry now!_ Dumbledore thought. Dumbledore smiled, condescendingly, at Harry, running his hand over the whip.

“I understand your frustration, Harry. You don’t want your friend to suffer for you. Yet, you won’t blink a second before deciding to abandon your friendship and go away. Which would be very convenient for you if you hadn’t sworn by your words to serve me as my house-elf this very afternoon. Not to mention the ministry records. Remember you being a house elf and all, or do you actually suffer from a short memory, Harry?”

Harry glowered but composed himself. After all, there was nothing at all he could do against a grown man, a wizard who seemed to be in high power, for that matter. He hated himself for losing his anger like that. He had just wanted it to stop, wanted the headmaster’s attention on himself. But now, he heaved with the knowledge that this was going to be his life. The house elves were the servants, or rather slaves of their world. He had known it, even though he didn’t really accept it until now. He and Wanda were base creatures, ones who existed only to the purpose of serving others above them.

Harry slowly started removing his clothes. He removed his pinkish top first, then his shorts and finally, feeling the headmaster’s gaze concentrated on him, he untied his thong and let it fall to the ground. He kneeled and got on his all fours—submissive posture, as his Master had called it, before he said, looking down at the ground, in a voice laden with resignation and self-pity, “Please, Master. Harry was a bad elf today. Please punish Harry.”

Dumbledore stared at the little boy before him in entrancement. His frame was too lean, yet his buttocks were strangely plump. _Plump juicy pear made perfectly for my needs_ , the man noted. It was perfectly positioned toward him, invitingly…Dumbledore almost was on the verge of pushing the boy’s cheeks apart and taking him right then and there, ripping through his tight, puckered entrance. But he stopped himself— _the boy wasn’t prepared, it is too soon for that_ , he told himself.

“Wanda, you may go. Harry will take on your punishment from here, as he so wishes,” Dumbledore said, without any hint of emotion in his voice. Wanda looked torn but there was no way she could defy a direct order so she just bowed and disapparated.

“Hold out your ass further, Harry. You can rest your head on the floor if that helps,” Dumbledore said softly, walking around absorbing the glory of the sight before him. He muttered a spell and the dim lights in the room were replaced by dozens of large scented candles hanging in the air surrounding both of them. The scent of the candles somehow soothed Harry, carried him into a trance of sorts. Dumbledore leaned down and grabbed the boy’s right ass-cheek with a firm hand to position it upwards as Harry rested his head on the floor.

“It would pain me to punish you like Wanda, Harry. I wouldn’t want to do that to your beautiful back,” Dumbledore said, caressing Harry’s round buttocks with his hands, replacing the whip with a flogger.

“It’s okay, Master,” Harry mumbled submissively, his head foggy and light with the scent of the candles. _Nothing can go wrong_ , his mind assured him.

Dumbledore withdrew his hand and ran the tresses of the flogger across Harry’s cheeks, which brought goosebumps on the boy’s arms. “I didn’t intend to punish you today, Harry. Anyhow, since you have stopped me from punishing Wanda for your incompetence, you will take the remaining lashing I meant for her. But you have been immensely disrespectful towards me, Harry. You will know that you will be punished harder for your incompliance than incompetence,” Dumbledore said, feeling a gnawing throb building up on his member.

“You will thank me for every lash and count them from beginning. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Harry said, some part of him horribly wanting to be punished. Dumbledore relished it thoroughly as he drew his hand back and struck with full impact on the boy’s left ass-cheek. Dumbledore knew he was being hard on the boy but since he was under the spell of the magically soothing candles, the boy wouldn’t remember much of the pain later. Harry cried out, his whole body shaking, the pain harder than anything he imagined, yet a voice inside telling him that he needed more, deserved far worse than this from his Master. That he should be glad to suffer this if that is what his Master decides for him.

“One…Thank you, Master!” Harry said through his sobbing, desperately trying to not change his posture.

Dumbledore brought the flogger down again; on the exact spot he had struck the boy before.

“Owww aww! Twoo,” Harry cried, panting for some time before he managed to mutter, “Thank you, Master”.

More blows came one after the other, and Dumbledore couldn’t help but slide his hand inside his pants to stroke his throbbing member after the third time the boy had cried out when the flogger made contact with his skin. Dumbledore stroked his member slowly, looking at how swollen the boy’s ass already looked. He couldn’t believe how hard he was at the sight of Harry sobbing uncontrollably, his head to the ground, ass raised to be punished by him. _How he loved his boys to suffer for him, willingly, for his flitting pleasure! What a beautiful relation it is, the one between the Master and his house-elf. Almost similar to that of a mentor and a student, but even more meaningful, because the submission is complete, unquestionable, given without want of return,_ Dumbledore was carried away in his own thoughts as he hit Harry and stroked his member.

After the fourth blow, the boy’s belly hit the floor and he wept for a bit before he raised himself again. Dumbledore didn’t mind, he was in no rush at all, he waited patiently every time Harry lost his posture and composed himself again obediently. Every time a blow fell, Harry felt like he couldn’t take any further, but once the sudden pain of the impact subsided, leaving only a painful sting, some part in him wanted more and more.

Dumbledore was almost on the point of coming on the fourteenth blow. He held himself on the edge and stretched his hand as far as it would go before he let the flogger cut through the air and find home on the boy’s already swollen ass with much greater impact than before. Harry’s torso fell again hitting floor and the boy saw hot spots of light in his head for some seconds before he wailed loudly, feeling as though he had been terribly maimed. For Dumbledore, the boy’s wail was nothing short of divine and he came in his hand, his whole body screaming with utmost pleasure. The audible groan from the old man went unnoticed in the sound of the boy’s painful crying.

“It’s okay, Harry. We are done for now,” Dumbledore said softly as he withdrew his hand from the pants and procured a spoon to transfer his cum into that before Harry turned to look at him, his face streaked with tears. He leaned towards Harry and wiped the tears from the boy’s face with his hand.

“You have done well, Harry. Open your mouth, now,” Dumbledore said, “This would help with the pain”.

Harry opened to reveal his pinkish cavity and took the hot wads of cum on the spoon without much thought. The boy swallowed it like medicine and Dumbledore couldn’t help but feel a bit of warmth for the little nymph. He leaned further and Harry hardly noticed in his exhaustion that his Master had raised himself and was carrying him bridal style to his bed. Harry knew he should have been ashamed of his nakedness and should hide his little wiener, but he was too tired even to raise his hand. _Afterall, what shame could he possibly have anymore, after being punished like that_ , he thought. He just wanted to sleep and forget about everything that happened in the day. _Maybe, it’s all a dream_ , he told himself.

Dumbledore laid Harry on his back on the bed and the smooth texture of the mattress hardly hurt his swollen buttocks. Yet, his whole ass was burning, and Harry let a moan out, feeling the warm softness of the bed against his nakedness. Dumbledore sat beside him and stroked his head, his fingers running softly through the boy’s unruly hair and Harry issued a low purr as he drifted into unconsciousness, thoroughly exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I have been building up for a while, and I hope you' all liked this chapter. Things are going to get much darker for Harry in the following chapters but anyways, let me know what you guys think about this one!


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